A Not-So-Dark-And-Stormy Night
by JaneDoh
Summary: Will Audrey follow her heart, or her destiny?


Fandom: Haven  
Spoilers: If you haven't seen the majority of season 3, and don't want spoilers: READ LATER ;). And if you haven't seen Haven at all yet - you are missing out!  
Disclaimer: Well, it is FANfiction. Does anything else even need to be said here?  
Rating: T  
Chapters: One shot  
Summary: Will Audrey follow her heart, or her destiny?  
Author's notes: This story was written after seeing up to s3ep8. The relationships are based on how the characters are at this point in time, and does not take into account the events in following episodes. Just an alternative ending for season 3.

A Not-So-Dark-And-Stormy Night

And then there were two; the last two residents of Haven that Audrey Parker would ever see. Well, for twenty-seven years, at least – and even then, she wouldn't remember who they were. Duke and Nathan; standing a few feet from each other, as though some silent force was pushing them apart. At times it seemed a miracle that their polarising personalities hadn't resulted in one of them leaving town. But as Audrey looked at the two men before her, she wondered if that would all change once she was no longer there as mediator.

The moon was in its last quarter, throwing a feeble light over the trio. Audrey couldn't help but think the pale light gave her friends a ghostly glow, as if the universe was acknowledging the sombre mood of the evening. She stood with her back towards the Barn, the dark shadow of the building looming behind her. Duke was still leaning against the truck with his arms folded; he'd assumed the position as soon as they had arrived, and hadn't moved since. His crumpled shirt and tattered shorts were little protection from the chilled night air, but he didn't seem to notice. Nathan had opted to shove his hands into his jean pockets, and seeing he couldn't feel the cold, Audrey guessed it was out of awkwardness.

The last few weeks had seemed to pass too quickly. Ever since Duke had deciphered the message about the Hunter, each day Audrey had left had seemed a little more precious than the last.

But now there were no more days left.

Audrey turned and took a few steps towards the Barn. As her boots crunched on the gravel, the crickets stopped chirping, fascinated by the intrusion of the outsider. In the weak light, she could barely discern the features of the building, and, in hindsight, she wondered why she had never visited during the day. Probably something to do with putting off the inevitable for as long as possible, she suspected.

She kept an even pace until she was only a few feet away, but then hesitated, instead reaching out a shaking hand to touch the wooden wall. She couldn't be sure if it was to help steady herself, or just to make sure the Barn was actually solid and not just an illusion. And it wasn't until her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the shadows that she noticed the door was either open fully or missing altogether; nothing but pure darkness could be seen beyond it. It was at that point that the fear of the unknown began to creep over her.

She could feel her breaths coming in short bursts which made her feel light-headed, and she forced herself to take a deep, controlled breath. Up until now, she had remained stoic about her fate, concluding that if her destiny was inevitable, she should at least try to accept it. But now that it was staring her in the face, her gallantry was wavering. She closed her eyes and focused on one thought: _ this is for the greater good._

Despite Duke's and Nathan's diligence in trying to avoid this moment, each idea they had presented had been to no avail. And when her mind wandered to that thought, a wave of sadness washed over her. She didn't want them to feel that they had failed; to carry that guilt with them. To the best of her knowledge, she would be unaware of what happened once she entered the Barn, but they would have to live with the memories– it seemed that their fate was worse than hers. And that was when she came to a conclusion: in some sick, twisted way, she was the lucky one. She wouldn't have to deal with the guilt or loneliness or despair of losing someone she cared about.

"Wait." Duke's voice cut through the stillness of the night.

Audrey heard his footsteps as he made his way towards her, and she swallowed deeply before opening her eyes. She had barely turned around before she felt Duke's arms engulfing her. He held her tightly, as though devotion alone may be enough to keep her from leaving.

His arms felt warm against her back, and she could smell the salt on his skin. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Duke." It was all she could manage to say. She just hoped he understood: his constant support, his companionship, his unwavering loyalty; their friendship was one of the most enduring memories of her time in Haven.

And then she felt his breath against her ear as he whispered: "I will always remember you, Audrey Parker." His honesty humbled her; despite his reputation around town as the charismatic smuggler who always put himself first, Audrey knew he had a good heart.

She savoured the embrace for a few moments, but feared if she didn't pull away soon, her resolve may abandon her. So she gave him one last squeeze and pulled back slightly, giving him the most convincing smile she could muster.

"Then make sure in twenty-seven years, you remind me who I am."

There was a crinkle to his brow and she could see his throat move as he swallowed. His eyes dropped to the floor, as though it was too painful to hold her gaze any longer. It saddened her to see the look of helplessness on his face, but she didn't want their last moments together to feel awkward. She reached her hand out until she felt his palm, curling her fingers until they wrapped around two of his own.

"I'll need someone to look out for me next time," she said, raising an eyebrow as she awaited his response.

At first she thought he might not be able to speak, but then he finally seemed to come to the realisation that her leaving was inevitable, and that neither of them wanted a sombre goodbye.

"Of course," he promised, giving her a sincere nod. Her smile turned to a genuine one as she felt his hand squeeze hers. He started to turn away, reluctantly dropping her hand. It only took a few seconds before the night air stole away the warmth where his hand had rested against hers, and she crossed her arms, trying to regain some heat.

Duke had barely taken a few steps before he stopped in his tracks, and turned to face her once more. "You do realise, that by then I'll be a lecherous old man?"

Audrey could see his lip curled at one corner and a flash of white teeth. That was how she wanted to remember him: as the cheeky lout, who always had some quip to lighten the mood.

"I'll have to rely on my natural instincts to resist your charms then," she replied.

He pressed his hand over his heart in mock offence before giving her one last smile, then turned and made his way back towards the truck.

Audrey noticed that Nathan was still standing in the same position, his eyes following Duke until he was standing on the far side of the truck. It wasn't until Duke leant against the truck with his back to them, staring in contemplation at the star-filled sky, did Nathan hesitantly make his way towards Audrey.

It was hard to see his features clearly in the moonlight, and his brow cast a shadow across his eyes, making her unable to read him properly. But she could discern his trepidation from the way his shoulders hunched forward and his head hung low. Despite the cool night air, she could feel the slightest sheen of nervous sweat on the back of her neck.

It felt like an eternity before he reached her, as though time was bending the rules so they could evade their goodbyes for as long as possible. And although they had had weeks to decide what they might say, several seconds passed in silence.

"Parker, you don't have to do this." Nathan's voice was gravelly with emotion, and Audrey could see the concerned furrow to his brow.

"Really? We're still at the 'Parker' stage?" she asked, trying to make light of Nathan's guardedness in showing emotion. But she could feel the sting of early tears burning her eyes as she watched the broken man before her.

And then he looked at her;_ really _looked at her. He looked past the tears and into her soul, with such intensity that her heart ached.

"Audrey," he started, reaching out until he grasped her hand, "please."

She bit her bottom lip, trying to stop the tremble running through it, and she wasn't sure that she would be able to make an intelligible sentence anyway. She took a shuddering breath, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against her. As their bodies made contact, Audrey could feel the tension ebbing from him. She knew the comfort he felt from the embrace, the significance of her touch.

And that only confirmed her resolve, made her realise how important her leaving really was. Not just for Nathan, or Duke, but for all those affected by the Troubles. She had to follow her destiny, so their lives could return to normal once more. Nathan would be able to feel again; to feel the wonder of human contact that everyone else took for granted. And Duke would be released from his guilt of having the power to destroy Troubles. And countless others would be able to once again lead ordinary lives.

She didn't want to push Nathan away – emotionally or physically – but she knew it was the only way he had a chance of moving on. And even though she knew it would break his heart, she couldn't afford to let him know it was doing exactly the same to her. She looked upwards, just as a single star fell from the sky, and blinked a few times to try to disperse the moisture in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Nathan," she uttered as she pulled back, hoping he wouldn't see her damp lashes. But before she had a chance to elaborate, she felt his lips against hers, too quickly for her brain to comprehend what was happening. A kiss that portrayed such devotion and longing, that she couldn't help but close her eyes, savouring the sensation for the briefest moment.

And then her mind urged her to pull away, even as her heart pleaded with her to stay. She placed her free hand on Nathan's chest and gently pushed him away, feeling the cold sting of the night air as his lips broke from hers.

His face was only inches from her own; close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek as he whispered: "I love you."

Her hand still rested against his chest, and she could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingers as he awaited her response. The shake of her head was almost imperceptible, and she could feel new tears forming. She couldn't hold his gaze, instead looking over his shoulder. And that was when she saw it: the stars, falling from the sky as though the heavens were weeping.

The Hunter.

"Don't." She couldn't tell if it sounded like an order, or like she was pleading. She just knew she had to convince Nathan that there was no hope for them. She needed him to leave tonight, without pining over the illusion that was Audrey Parker.

She let her hand fall from his chest, but she could feel his fingers still wrapped around her other hand. She took one step back, but his grip remained steadfast. She looked behind him, as the meteors showered from the sky, but he seemed oblivious to anything except her. And then she took one more step, far enough that her hand pulled free from his, and she saw the wounded look on his face as the contact was broken.

"Goodbye, Nathan." Despite her resolution, her voice wavered as she spoke. She turned towards the Barn, scared that she might change her mind if she didn't act quickly. As she gazed at the ominous building, she recited to herself that her sacrifice would save the town of Haven, the only place she had ever really known as home. And as she walked, she could feel the cool trickle of tears as they finally spilled from her lashes, reminding her of how valuable her last few years had been, and she held onto that thought as she stepped over the threshold into oblivion.


End file.
